Post 16: Umit Hassan the Turkey

With frightening velocity I threw up my breakfast, all over Umit's feet.


This is the end of the story of this particular pile...


It started much like this, though I must warn you the bit about the chunder is the best bit.


Christmas approached me like a limbless man on a hillside of slick ice. Like most years I wanted a Turkey to eat on Christmas day. I have always been confused by achieving such things and got the wrong end of the stick somewhat as I found myself boarding a flight to Istanbul.

As I waved fairdy-well to cold old blighty I snuck a few shots of whiskey down my gullet and fell into a dreamless calm doze.


I awoke in Istanbul and set about finding myself a Turkey, I asked a man where I might find a Turkey. He pointed at his shoes and continued his journey.


I asked a young lady the same question. Again her answer was frustratingly oblique.


My entire morning was spent this way without any answer approximating much less than a riddle and much more than joke at my foreign expense.


Later that afternoon I limped across a shady looking man by a market stall.


"Excuse me good sir!" I beckoned "Where might one find a Turkey?"


With greed in his sneer he whispered in my ear: "Come with me my dear, come come, have no fear"

Behind him I trotted, my tired feet felt clotted, the air smelt quite rotted and I hoped soon a Turkey would be spotted.


But he had got the wrong end of the stick as well and he just tried to sell me drugs.


Frustrated by this time wasting excursion, I made my excuses and with 50 kilos of Grade A smack taped across my stomach I waved fairdy-well to the Turkish land of Turkey and was soon back in Blighty.


I drove out to a farm in the Essex countryside where the kindly farmer sold me a fine Turkey for the princely sum of £22.99. 


Whilst wandering around the Turkey farm I met Umit Hassan. I enquired as to whether he had a pile and he showed me around the back of his shed where neatly piled up were a pile of rather rotten looking giblets...


and with frightening velocity I threw my breakfast up all over Umit's feet.




Warning


Some piles stories just aren't as good as others.